


Descent

by Lori_S21



Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23410801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lori_S21/pseuds/Lori_S21
Summary: "Find a way..."The words haunt Ignacio Varga. Finding their way into his dreams, shaping his nightmares. He feels he could do anything for his father.Lalo studied him, dark eyes inscrutable. Nacho refused to look away this time. Lalo took a sip of his drink, throat bobbing, moistening his lips in the process. “Would you say I am a bad boss, Ignacio?”Nacho blinked a little. Lalo always made his name sound so rich and intimate, as though he savoured the taste on his tongue. He took a sip of his own drink. It was good stuff, smoky and pleasantly warm. He watched Lalo as he did so. His eyes were bottomless pits in the soft light.Nacho was falling but this time it was his choice.
Relationships: Eduardo "Lalo" Salamanca/Ignacio "Nacho" Varga
Comments: 22
Kudos: 89





	Descent

**Author's Note:**

> **Dedicated to to the wonderful Lacho Squad on Tumblr!**

It was all Gustavo Fring’s fault.

He with the mild mannered act, dead eyed stare and brutal efficiency. 

_“Find a way…”_ He had quietly commanded, gun hidden behind his father’s head. Those words, the image, entwined together, haunted Ignacio Varga. It chased him into his dreams, echoing through his nightmares.

Nacho no longer cries out, even in his sleep. He learned a long time ago that no one is coming to help him.

 _“Find a way.”_ A way to worm his way into Lalo Salamanca’s confidence. And so he had, with a leap of faith from one roof to another under Lalo’s watchful, delighted eyes. To save his father he could do anything, he’d felt.

Even get close to a Salamanca.

He didn’t know how it had happened. Only that he was desperate to win Lalo’s approval, to gain his favour. That the regard of this man was all that stood between his father and a bullet even if he didn’t even know it. Nacho clung to him like a drowning man, not caring that Lalo was quite capable of forcing his head back under water until the breath left his body. Lalo meant life. Or death.

He’d had one drink too many. Nacho was usually so careful. He had too many secrets to contain to be lowering his defences. But Lalo had wanted to celebrate and that was that. 

A select few enforcers gathered at El Michoacánoto have a few drinks whilst listening to vibrant ranchera music. Domingo was successfully installed as a conduit to the DEA, albeit in jail. Fring’s pipeline was encountering all kinds of unfortunate problems. Life was good. Nacho knew better than anyone that Fring would eventually strike back, twice as hard. That Lalo was in over his head and thought himself smarter than he truly was, even without Nacho ratting him out at every turn. Nacho was too numb to feel guilt or shame for his actions. He has no room to feel anything else and certainly has no allegiance to the Salamancas. All he can do is survive and get through one situation to the next.

He feels nothing until Lalo offers to drive him home. It hadn’t escaped Nacho’s attention, how little their fearless leader had been drinking, staying sharp as ever. He laughed a lot that night, throwing his head back, exposing the long line of his throat. He grilled up a few dishes, clearly in his element and not afraid to get his hands dirty. No one would dare snigger at the boss doing the cooking. He was doing what he loved and was damn good at it. He chattered non stop, making sure everyone was having a good time.

Here was a man who knew where he belonged, who makes no apologies for the terrible things he does and sleeps well every night. Nacho envied him as he watched Lalo work the room without trying. He almost looked like a regular person, with normal human emotions, radiating energy and charisma. Nacho kept his distance, back to the wall but every now and then, their eyes met and he found he had to look away from that showman’s grin.

The enforcers eventually drifted away until it was just him and Lalo left. They locked up and Nacho staggered after his boss into the night air. It helped revive him a little.

“Get in.” Lalo said, gesturing to his car. He managed to sound both cheery and firm. Nacho staggered into the passengers side and said nothing. 

The ride home took very little time. Lalo kept up his usual stream of consciousness but that was okay. It was when he went quiet that you should be afraid. Those times where he stared you down until you offered to do something truly awful for him. Or when he simply smiled, taking a good, hard look at you before lashing out. 

“Tell me, do you actually like it here? Does _anyone_ like it here?” He asked cheerily and only the unusual lull in the chatter made Nacho realise he expected an answer.

Nacho turned a little in his seat to face him. Lalo’s dark eyes were firmly fixed on the road ahead, profile lightly illuminated by sparse streetlights. He drummed his fingers on the wheel, always thrumming with some unheard, internal rhythm. 

Nacho shrugged and gave him a vague answer. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” His eyebrows raised in humour. “When? Be more specific. I need to know details, Ignacio!” He teased dramatically, sounding pained though the corners of his mouth tilted up into a smile. 

Nacho frowned a little, trying to focus. He’d only drank half a dozen beers (all a good, quality Mexican brand, Lalo had assured him) but his mind felt fuzzy. How to answer? Play it safe with a boring option like the weather? But the weather was always the same here. How about festivities? Dia de los Fieles Difuntos could be fun and poignant. Only nowadays he tries to keep his thoughts far away from the dead. Gringos only bastardise the holiday anyway. Christmas with his father used to be a warm time of companionship, of food and drink with his many uncles and aunties he wasn’t strictly related to but may as well been. Only now he doesn’t see much of his father and Nacho wanted to keep Lalo’s mind far away from the matter of his existence.

“Late summer evenings, when it’s quiet.” He found himself saying. “You can get in your car and drive for miles into the desert. Feel the sun on your skin…” He trailed off lamely. _It’s nice_ , he doesn’t say. He also doesn’t add that he sometimes imagines what it would be like to just keep going, smell the dusky scent of the desert heat, feel the rumble of the engine, pick a direction and never look back. 

Lalo remained silent for a heavy moment. 

“Ignacio, you are a true poet.” Surprisingly, his tone didn’t sound mocking, almost fond. Nacho looked out of his own window but could feel the other man’s eyes on him, appraising. His face felt warm. Because of the beers. He folded his arms around himself, watched the blur of the sleeping city pass by.

Luckily the moment was shattered by Lalo’s usual prattle. He joked that he thought Nacho would have picked happy hour at the local strip club. Nacho let it all wash over him.

When Lalo finally turned the engine off, they were not outside Nacho’s home.

“Come inside?” It was a question this time but Nacho knew better than to say no. Lalo had already pocketed his keys and was getting out of the car, long legs striding towards a tastefully modernised bungalow. It wasn’t the kind of place Nacho would have envisioned Lalo living. Maybe they should swap.

“Vamonos, Nachito! I don’t bite.” He called out cheerfully, pausing by the open front door so Nacho would follow obediently.

This grated but again, Nacho knew better than to protest. He wondered why Lalo wanted him in his home, his motivations as mysterious as ever. And they both knew that Lalo did more than just ‘bite.’

The house was very plain, as if Lalo hadn’t quite settled in yet. Perhaps he was too busy pursuing other matters. Or maybe he didn’t intend on staying long, though life was rarely that kind (and what would become of Nacho then?). The softly lit home had a few embellishments. A beige, open plan living room with a sturdy, black leather couch. A large TV. A sculpted iron and glass coffee table. A bookcase with few tiles liberally scattered (some clearly recipe books). An old silver-framed photo of a family gathering. Nacho didn’t care to look closer. Lalo wandered through an archway into a sizeable kitchen.

“Nightcap?” Lalo asked around a smile, interrupting his thoughts. “Don’t you just love that expression? Capping off the night.” He temptingly held up an expensive bottle of whisky. 

Lalo always had an unsettling bounciness to him, but it was worse when he was still, like a big cat toying with you. All that coiled attention focused on you, with eyes like a lie detector. It was one of the few times Lalo resembled his cousin, Tuco.

Nacho nodded in response to the drink. He didn’t care about the expression one way or another. 

Lalo poured two generous helpings into crystal tumblers and settled on the couch. He patted the space next to him. “Come sit, I want to talk.”

 _That’s all you ever do._ Nacho thought wearily. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Normally such a statement would fill him with fear but now he was too tired and halfway drunk to care. Lalo handed hm a glass as he sunk into the sofa, a little closer than he’d intended but that was just fine too. Let Lalo make of that what he will. 

_Find a way…_

Lalo studied him, dark eyes inscrutable. Nacho refused to look away this time. Lalo took a sip of his drink, throat bobbing, moistening his lips in the process. “Would you say I am a bad boss, Ignacio?”

Nacho blinked a little. Lalo always made his name sound so rich and intimate, as though he savoured the taste on his tongue. He took a sip of his own drink. It was good stuff, smoky and pleasantly warm. He watched Lalo as he did so. His eyes were bottomless pits in the soft light.

What was this, girl talk? He fought down a grimace, remembering who he was drinking with. Lalo may have looked relaxed, lean body lounging back into the supple leather, legs spread slightly, small smile around his lips, but he could change so very easily.

Nacho shrugged once more, feeling this was the safest answer. Lalo’s prolonged silence suggested otherwise. “No. You’re good.” He added after a moment, not sounding particularly reassuring. 

Compared to Tuco the bomb and Hector the openly evil bastard, Lalo was practically a saint. Nacho didn’t think Lalo would appreciate his thoughts on his family so kept his answers as monosyllabic as possible.

Lalo hummed thoughtfully. “I am not a monster. I am not unreasonable.” _That’s debatable,_ Nacho thought. “You do know you can come to me with any concerns, no?”

Nacho’s blood froze. Was this it then? Was this the trap? The predator would pounce, tear his throat open with his teeth and leave him to bleed out in his own den? Nacho took another sip of his drink, draining it and was proud of how steady his hand was. No. If Lalo knew he would be dead already, or wishing he was. Lalo moved closer, very deliberately. Nacho held still as the other man plucked the now empty glass from his hand and placed both tumblers on the coffee table. 

“Then why do I feel this distance between us?” His eyes bored into Nacho’s, creased with apparent concern. “Something is troubling you, I think.”

Nacho could hear his own heartbeat and wondered whether Lalo could too. Surely he must? Nacho’s thoughts were racing. Was this a trap? Lalo sounded concerned rather than accusatory, but that could be a deception. How was it that this man he barely knew, could tell that something was wrong with him? Perhaps because he lived his whole life in chaos. The point was, Lalo knew something was off. And a suspicious Lalo was the most dangerous of all. 

Nacho let his breath out in a rush, allowing some of his anxiety to bleed through whilst he tried to think of an excuse. Why did he drink so much? Why did he let Lalo take him home? He felt frighteningly sober now, but still unable to think straight. It was not just the situation. It was Lalo’s proximity, the weight of his regard, the warmth of his body. He could even smell him, spices and subtle cologne. It was making his head spin, his pulse quicken.

He knew what he had to do. So much depended on this man’s favour. This cruel, laughing, confusing, clever, manipulative, charming man that was his life preserver. He wondered if he had the strength and control to go through with it.

“It’s nothing.” He said quietly, considering his options.

“Ignacio…” Lalo chided softly, sounding disappointed. He reached out and lightly grazed Nacho’s cheek with just his fingertips, a light touch that sent a shiver down his spine that most certainly wasn’t fear. So the nerve inducing signals were correct. He could use this. 

That’s what Nacho told himself as he grasped Lalo’s hand to stop him withdrawing. That’s what he told himself as he laid the flat of Lalo’s palm against his cheek so it curved softly against his skin. He leaned into the warmth of his touch. This was him finding a way, manipulating the situation, using Lalo. He very nearly believed it, if it weren’t for the way a single touch made his breath hitch. Or the way he couldn’t look away from those eyes. Or the warmth that flooded his body when he sees the heat in them.

“Ah,” Lalo sighed, though he still looked mildly amused. “I have wondered. The way I see you look at me sometimes…”

He didn’t sound displeased which was encouraging but Nacho needed him to shut up more than anything because it was confusing him. _Stop talking please, why won’t you ever stop talking?_

He found that kissing him hard was an effective silencing technique.

_________________________________

A kiss from Lalo was like no other. 

He could feel his triumphant smile which only made Nacho kiss harder, infuriated. He wound his arms around Lalo’s neck to pull him closer. His moustache scratched against his skin, heightening the sensations. His kisses were rough, hungry. His calloused hands held Nacho’s face in place, hard enough to make his jaw ache. When it fell open, Lalo moved inside, conquering whilst simultaneously pressing him back into the couch with a pleased growl. He caged him within his arms but Nacho was willing. He opened his legs in supplication and Lalo pressed into him.

His long, lean body was surprisingly strong, holding him down, restraining him but that was okay. More than okay. Nacho held on for dear life, heat igniting his body. He moaned when Lalo lightly sucked his lower lip and helplessly rocked their bodies together. He allowed himself to be completely lost in the feel of the other man. It was good to just feel. Anything other than fear, something that was purely physical.

He didn’t care if Lalo wanted to use him. He was accustomed to it. At least he might get something out of this for himself. Something pleasurable and not steeped in terror. Something beyond just surviving. 

He began to rock against the other man, suddenly unbearably hard, pushing up against his firm thigh muscles. Pleasure pulsed throughout his body, from groin to the pit of his stomach, igniting his nerves, burning away everything else. He groaned with how good it felt to just let go. 

Lalo broke away and started laughing. Of course he did.

“Finally. So you _can_ use that voice,” Hot words slurred against the crook of his neck. And then Lalo proved what a liar he was when he sunk his teeth into the sensitive juncture where the blood beats fast. _I don’t bite…_ Nacho’s whole body jerked against him and he moaned raggedly as he tried to pull Lalo closer by the hips, not caring how needy he looked. Lalo scraped sharp teeth against his jugular. Nacho forced down the first stirrings of unease. It was just a reminder of who he was lying with. 

He ground up into Lalo, a long, slow drag and was pleased to feel the matching hardness above him. Lalo gasped, not as unaffected as he seemed. “Only because you never shut up,” Nacho finally replied, thinking with his body, not his brain. Lalo chuckled against his skin, before laving at the tender spot with his tongue, kissing it sweetly in a way that made Nacho shiver. 

“Naughty Ignacio…” He murmured before sucking hard on the same abused area until Nacho was gasping, digging his nails into Lalo’s clothed back, legs scrabbling. That would leave a hell of a bruise but he supposed that was the point. Lalo’s hand found its way under Nacho’s shirt and was insistently stroking the sensitive skin there, grazing his nails over his stomach. Nacho squirmed under the attention, ran his hands over Lalo’s back, as if trying to soothe him. He felt like he was being devoured. 

Lalo leaned back but before Nacho could protest the loss, he hastily unbuttoned Nacho’s shirt. He spread it open before running hands and eyes over his muscles in a gesture close to worship. Nacho tried not to flush. He was proud of his body and lay still, allowing Lalo to look.

“Simply gorgeous,” He murmured, a hungry slither of words. “Bonito…”

He traced the raised scars on Nacho’s hip and shoulder, skin slightly thicker there, scar tissue built up from gunshot wounds. He lightly scratched the raised flesh with his nails and Nacho’s heart thumped hard in his throat. Lalo leaned down and kissed each old injury slowly, using a hint of tongue that made Nacho squirm. He lapped at the salt of his flesh in a way that short-circuited Nacho’s thoughts in a whirl of fear and desire. His facial hair irritated and his mouth soothed. Nacho ran his hands up and down his spine and waited, lazily grinding up into him, settling a rhythm that Lalo matched.

“You took a bullet for my family. Two, in fact.” Lalo said solemnly in Spanish, voice low and confiding against Nacho’s skin. “What can I do for you, hm?” 

_You can shut up now._ He wasn’t quite far gone enough to blurt that out. But he placed his index finger against Lalo’s lips and felt the man smile. He got the message. Nacho traced his lower lip, fascinated by the shape until Lalo sucked the digit into his mouth, tongue swirling obscenely in a way that had no right to be so hot.

Then Lalo was shifting down his body, prowling, making strategic stops that teased Nacho to the point he wanted to hold his head in place. A hot press of tongue and scrape of teeth against his nipples that made him cry out. A scratch of nails against his sensitive waist. Slow, deliberate breaths against the quivering skin of his lower stomach. Nacho did his best to stay still, to hide his impatience. Lalo wanted to break him and he wouldn’t win. He’d _never_ beg.

Lalo lapped at the skin just above his happy trail as his hands made quick work of his flies. He yanked Nacho’s pants and underwear down as far as he could, too impatient to undress him completely. Then came a new kind of torture. Looking down at Lalo Salamanca, trusting him. All he could do was watch and writhe as he kissed his soft inner thighs, sucked at the skin of his lower stomach, bypassing his cock every time. Lalo’s eyes closed, as though he were savouring the taste. Nacho was so hard it was embarrassing. He wanted to grab Lalo by the head and shove him all the way down…

Lalo lightly gripped his balls, kneading him where he is most vulnerable and all Nacho could do was lie back and trust him, trying not to hyperventilate. Lalo’s eyes were on his face now, drinking in his reaction with an eagerness that made him uncomfortable. He massaged the flesh, pressing his fingers into the smooth expanse of skin behind them in a way that made Nacho’s hips buck right off the couch helplessly. 

Lalo threw an arm over his hips to hold him in place and chuckled. “So eager…” He murmured a string of endearments in Spanish that only heightened Nacho’s arousal. His voice was so deep and ragged, darkly lyrical in its mother tongue…

When he finally took Nacho into his mouth, he nearly came with the sudden shock of it, a ragged groan ripped right out of him. Fortunately he didn’t finish. He was sure that would not have gone down well but it was all too much. The scrape of his moustache. The firm grip of his hand around him, twisting just right. His wiry arm holding him in place, forcing him to stay still. That fiendish tongue, lapping, tracing, drawing all kinds of patterns against the sensitive flesh, until he was sweating and holding in his moans. That sinfully hot mouth, taking him so far back. So wet and deep, the gentle suction made his eyes roll back, his knees buckle. 

He opened his legs as far as his pants would allow as Lalo set up a subtle rhythm. Slow at first, teasing and gentle, before increasing the pressure, moving faster, swallowing around him.

Lalo was an expert at this. Nacho wasn’t surprised. The man seemed to be good at everything he does. 

He can’t quite believe this was happening. Nacho looked down helplessly, seeing a powerful Salamanca between his legs. The other man moaned and Nacho cried out with how good it felt around him. His lips looked beautiful. Nacho longed to touch him. He made an abortive attempt to place his hands in that hair, dark curls with a charming hint of grey, but it felt too intimate. He kept his hands by his sides, curling into fists, digging his nails into his palms. The pain telling him this was real.

Lalo only teased him one more time. After a particularly hard suck, Nacho jammed his fist into his mouth to keep from screaming, toes curling, whole body tensing. Lalo’s eyes flickered up and he pulled off immediately. Though he never stopped pinning Nacho down for one moment.

“No, no, no…” He chided, voice raw from taking Nacho so deep. “I get to hear you.”

Nacho obeyed immediately, hands back by his sides, now digging into the couch. Lalo was as good as his word and immediately resumed his task. Every now and then, dark eyes flashed up, checking up on him, drinking in his reactions as greedily as he lapped at Nacho’s cock. It was torture not to be able to thrust, to buck up into that heat. All he could do was writhe and squirm, moans being torn out of him.

He couldn’t take it anymore. The only time he put his hands on Lalo was to warn him, hands digging into his shoulders urgently.

“I’m going to - Lalo…” He warned.

But Lalo didn’t care. He doubled his efforts until Nacho was crying out, eyes tight shut. His orgasm was ripped out of him, spilling down Lalo’s throat. He could feel him drink down all he had to give.

He only opened them again once he felt the weight of Lalo move away to perch on the other arm of the sofa. He looked like some ridiculously handsome gargoyle. 

Lalo absentmindedly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned down at him. Nacho felt a spike of unease at the sight of those teeth and where they had just been. Sweat trickled down Nacho’s back as he tried to catch his breath. He idly thought he’d stick to the couch if he didn’t find the strength to move soon. The weight of Lalo’s gaze was making him feel uneasy, especially with the way the material of his jeans was tenting. It looked painful. He marvelled at Lalo's control. Nacho made no move to cover up, he just lay there, spread out like an offering.

Lalo broke the silence first. “That was worth at least one bullet, right?”

He couldn’t help it. Nacho sputtered helpless, weak laughter and Lalo joined in, sounding a little surprised. Nacho forced himself to reign it in. He felt like tears would come next if he wasn’t careful. 

“Ignacio Varga, you are truly something special.”

He stood up, pressing the flat of his hand against his crotch. Nacho froze, unsure of what would come next but he could guess. Fair was fair and he was actually starting to want a taste.

“Better?” Lalo grinned down at him and he wished he could hide his face. Lalo always saw so much. “I’m so glad we could have this little talk.” He laughed again, still looming over him, studying his reaction, head titled to one side like a bird of prey. Nacho felt like he’d just taken the world’s strangest test. He hoped he had passed. 

Gradually Lalo’s face turned solemn, almost regretful, good humour draining away. He swooped down and kissed Nacho for one long moment. It was exactly the kind of kiss that took your breath away. Nacho didn’t even know they were real. He stroked Lalo’s face before he could help himself and the other man pulled back, hovering inches away. All Nacho could see was the shadow of his face instead of an expression. It was unnerving. 

“Oh Ignacio.” He sighed, breath warm against his face. “I wish I could believe that was all you wanted from me.” 

Now Nacho’s heart stopped too. He was finding that all the cliches were real. 

Before he could react, Lalo straightened up and began to walk away.

He decided to let that remark go for now. He knew there would be many hours to come where he would turn his words over and over again in his head. There would be time for that but now Lalo, his dangerous lifeline was walking away. “Don’t you want me to…?”

“Some other time.” Lalo waved him away. “I’ll call you a cab.” And just like that, he was dismissed. Lalo left the room. A minute and one phone call later, he heard the shower running. Nacho toyed with the idea of following him. He wouldn’t dare without permission.

Nacho couldn’t help it. He stung with the first pangs of rejection. Didn’t Lalo know what tonight had cost him? He pulled on his clothes and began to shake. He decided to wait outside, preferring to linger in the dark front garden rather than be near Lalo’s presence a moment longer than was required.

_Find a way…_

He wasn’t sure _that_ was what Fring had in mind. He wasn’t sure if he was entirely successful. He could have made things worse. They’d gotten as close as two people could possibly get and it still wasn’t enough.

He’s more lost than ever but still he follows Lalo’s plan. He waits in the dark. He remembers, all he can do is survive and get through one situation to the next.

**Author's Note:**

> **I was so intimidated by the high quality stories on here that I was hesitant to share my take. Please let me know what you thought! I'm not sure I'm done with this pairing yet...**


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